Ego
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: Layla attempts to take charge in her relationship with Mello but finds the tables turn rather quickly. Mello/OC *Lemon*


**A/N:** I've realized I write a whole lot of lemons regarding these two. Damn it, I can't help it. Mello always struck me as this really sexual character and I always see himself really expressing how he feels for Layla through sex because he's too much of a wanker to put it in nice words. Poor Layla though, she tries to take control as seen here, but she's just no good at it, like Mello said she's a Kiska, not a tigress. By the way, I hope those of you who've been reading my stuff have realized that Kiska means "cat" or "kitten" in Russian.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note or any of its respective characters. However, I do own Layla Levandi and the contents of this fiction. Please do not use her without my written permission.

**Ego**

The fire alarm in their tiny apartment would not stop going off, and to be frank, it was driving Mello completely mad. Every few seconds it would emit two shrill beeps, each one about three seconds long. This had been going on for the past half hour and to be truthful Mello was getting ready to shoot something. And that, was truly his big mistake.

"Layla goddamn it! Turn that motherfucking thing off!" he roared.

Layla had always been good at ignoring things, and being caught in her own little world, especially when it came to her paintings. When she was painting, nothing, not even the most annoying fire alarm could distract her.

"Turn it off yourself." she mumbled, stroking the canvas slowly with a brush.

"I've tried everything," he snarled, "I've hit it with a broom, I threw chocolate at it. I've tried everything! Get up off your lazy ass and fix it!"

She seemed quite unimpressed with Mello's tantrum and merely tilted her head in his direction, "If you cannot fix it, then learn to live with the noise."

Now, Mello himself had never really been too great at learning to live with things. They either learned to live with him or they ended up dead, plain and simple. At the time, it had seemed quite logical to Mello, but later when he looked back on it, he was surprised Layla hadn't ended up killing him on the spot.

He pulled out his gun, and shot a bullet straight through Layla's canvas and into the fire alarm. It emitted a final dying beep of protest, then fell silent. What was left of the plastic clattered to the wood floor and for the first time in thirty minutes Mello felt at peace again.

Layla however, did not look so pleased. The painting she had been working on was a painstakingly detailed landscape of her homeland from memory, and now, there was a bullet hole burned through the middle of it.

"Mello you son of a bitch!" she snarled, her clenching into fists, "Do you have any idea how long I've been working on that fucking thing?"

Mello heaved a yawn and plopped back onto the couch, digging briefly for the remote so he could turn on the television. "Nope. Just paint another."

She wadded up a sheet of scratch paper and threw it quite viciously at the top of Mello's head. He didn't respond and instead found himself watching another rerun off some boring couple's sitcom on the television. Layla was fuming silently and she strode towards their storage room to retrieve another canvas and began to paint another picture.

After about an hour, Mello was sick of her pouting. "I'm going to bed." he stated plainly, normally when they had any kind of argument or tiff about anything Layla was the first to apologize and follow him dutifully to bed. Tonight however, she didn't respond and merely continued painting.

Mello strode past her, patting her head gently and she pulled away with a feral cat noise that reminded him why he nicknamed her 'Kiska' in the first place. "Don't be such a baby." he snorted as he disappeared into their bedroom.

He'd already begun to feel guilty about it though, and vowed to buy her a new paint set or something tomorrow. Then, he scowled as he changed in front of their dresser mirror, taking off his shirt and pants and stripping to his boxers. What a softie she was turning him into. By the time he got to Near, they'd probably be baking cookies together if she kept this up.

Then he crawled in bed and curled around his pillow, little did he know that Layla had other plans in mind.

When Mello awoke a few hours later he noticed something seemed strangely off.

_What the hell,_ he thought suddenly, looking around wildly. His body felt oddly...rigid and as he glanced upward he noticed that his hands had been tied to their old rusty head board. His first thought was that somehow he'd been taken hostage in his own home. His second thought was that Layla was not beside him or anywhere near him, and he suddenly began to panic.

_ Jesus Christ, what if someone's taken her? Or killed her..._ He thought, wiggling frantically in the bed. However, he noticed that his gun was still in his pocket and whoever had done this was clearly an amateur at taking people hostage. Whoever'd done this was probably still nearby or even in the apartment.

"Layla!" he yelled, trying to keep his voice calm, knowing that if he sounded relaxed she would be too.

"Just a minute," she called back easily.

She did sound calm, a little too calm and Mello wriggled uselessly against the headboard again. "Are you alright? Is someone in the apartment?" He'd figured it was best to let the intruder know he was on to them.

"I'm fine, just drinking coffee." she said cheerfully, "And no one is here. Just me."

Then he panicked, had she tied him up? What if she was being controlled by Kira? What if, at this very second Kira had written down that he was to be killed by the only person he trusted completely? But, how would she kill him, pouring scalding coffee in his mouth until he drowned? That didn't sound very pleasant. Especially since he didn't care too much for coffee.

However, when she came in the room, she looked completely normal. Her eyes weren't glowing red with evil and her mouth hadn't sprouted fangs, in fact she looked pretty. Her hair was pulled up high in a bun with two decorative chopsticks sticking from it, and she wore a grey silken robe with pink flowers on it.

She smiled neatly at him and tilted her head almost owlishly. "I'm glad you're awake, I was wondering if you'd sleep all through the night. But, I was prepared to wait." She tapped a long fingernail on her coffee cup and suddenly it all clicked it Mello's mind.

"You tied me up?" he snarled, "Why you little..."

"Careful!" she said teasingly, "I wouldn't anger the person who has the power over you Mello."

Indignation rose through Mello's throat and he growled at her, "If you know what's good for you you'll fucking untie me, right now!"

Still though, she smiled gently at him then strode over to the bedside. Mello tilted his head over to glare at her through icy blue eyes. She ran a finger down Mello's cheek, and he could smell a fresh coat of polish on her nails.

"Mello needs a lesson in control I think." she purred, glancing down at him.

He briefly contemplated biting her finger off, see who would be in control then.

"When I get out of this, I will fucking strangle you." he barked, and she smiled slightly, perching herself on the end of the bed.

"Will you?" she asked mildly, tapping her nails on his stomach.

"What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" he snapped, this was a completely different side of Layla, and one he wasn't so sure he was comfortable with.

She grabbed his jaw roughly and shook his head, not enough to hurt him, but enough to anger him so that his eyes were flashing dangerously at her.

"You shot my painting you fucking moron," she purred, and lifted a paintbrush out of the pocket in her robe. She let it trail over his jaw then smiled at him, brushing a few locks of blond hair out of his eyes. "I must have _something_ to paint Mello."

Then, she pulled out what looked to be a chocolate bar and she waved it underneath Mello's nose. He instantly forgot his anger, and instead focused his eyes on the bar of chocolate. He hated how well she knew him.

"But, I need paint, and what better paint then chocolate?"

Then she tapped the bar gently against his forehead, "But, as you can see, its quite...stubborn." She tilted her lips against his neck and placed a kiss on the sensitive area underneath his ear. "But, it can be melted."

Mello's eyes now shone lustfully and he swallowed hard when he spoke, "W-With what?"

She blinked, "...The uh, microwave?"

He sighed, "Well, that's not very sexy..."

"...Oh, well I...shut up Mello!" she snapped storming off into the kitchen.

He almost felt bad for her, she just couldn't be dominating if she tried, but that was all right. He could play along for the time being.

She came back a moment later and Mello could practically smell the chocolate from across the room. Layla dipped the brush slowly into the chocolate and sat firmly between his legs. She removed the brush from the bowl and Mello watched the chocolate drip slowly off the brush.

She crawled over him and suddenly Mello felt the hot, sticky chocolate on the side of his jaw, followed by Layla's tongue slowly licking it off. He tilted his head in such a way so that he could capture her lips in his own. His tongue darted out, dashing over her bottom lip to capture some of the leftover sugar.

Mello could feel her resolve weakening, and he knew Layla ached to kiss him more, but was slightly surprised when she pulled back. She was more determined than he thought.

She continued her on her work, painting chocolate over him then licking it off slowly. When she hit the particularly sensitive spot on his scarred shoulder he turned and heard the bars of the rusty headboard creak.

_This thing,_ he thought, _it'll break if I pull hard enough._ Then, he smirked, they'd see who was top cat indeed by the end of this little game.

She thankfully didn't notice and was now focused on lapping up the chocolate beneath one of his ribs.

"Layla, sit up." he mumbled. She blinked, looking to see if she had hurt him in some way and instead found him grinning at her.

"Yes?" she asked, looking slightly confused.

"I don't think the tigress is quite your style." He sat up roughly, yanking his arms using his torso strength and thankfully the rusted bar of the headboard broke.

The look on her face was possibly the best 'oh shit' face he had ever seen and he pushed her back onto the bed.

"Um." she looked mildly bewildered now as she gazed up at Mello who looked at her with a feral grin. Layla suddenly eased back into the submissive dumb girl act very quickly, as Mello knew she would. "Uh, well, um...want some chocolate?" she offered the bowl to him almost sheepishly and he fought the urge to laugh.

He plucked the bowl from her fingers and set it on the nightstand. "No," he whispered, "I want my _tigress_ turned back into a Kiska. Fun as the tiger may be, the kitten is much more lovable."

Mello's fingers found the chopsticks in her hair and pulled them out so that her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. Tangling his hands in her hair he pulled her head back so that he could suck on the sensitive skin of her neck. She let out a tiny purr as he did so.

"See," he mumbled, moving her over so that her head could at least rest on a pillow. "You're a Kiska, and I want you to stay that way."

She squirmed against him, "But you ruined my painting you ass!"

He rose back on his haunches, "Ah. I see. Go to bed then Kiska." Then, Mello mimed going to sleep, knowing in a few moments Layla would be clamoring all over him, again his little Kiska.

He was right, a few moments later she was crawling over him, nuzzling his neck and kissing at his jawline. "Alright, I forgive you."

"Mmm, that's lovely." he said in a bored tone, pretending to wave her off.

"Mello," she whined, tugging at his shoulder. He opened one eye and peered up at her. "Yes?"

"Please?" she said, biting her lip in that way that Mello found so adorable and infuriating at the same time

"Please what?" he said, trying to hide his smirk in the pillow.

"Mello," she whined again, "Please...?"

"Please what?" he inquired, prodding at her with his finger. "Tell me what you want eh?"

"Please, take me." she said, biting her lip again and looking downward, a gesture of perfect humility in Mello's eyes.

Quicker than she had spoken she was underneath him, Mello kissing and nibbling gently on her lips. "You're adorable when you do that." he praised, untying her robe and admiring her underneath it.

His hand trailed down to stroke at her thighs and he let them briefly pass over the warm wetness between her legs.

"Such a good girl," he purred in her ear, "My sweet little Kiska."

He slithered down her legs and she let out an anxious impassioned cry when he delved his tongue into her heat.

Layla's hands instantly sank down and buried themselves in Mello's hair while he lapped at her with his tongue, like a cat with a saucer of milk.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed, pulling on his hair roughly.

Mello paid her no mind and continued concentrating on her pleasure, loving how her thighs clamped tight around his ears and he could feel the blood rushing through them, however, when they started to quiver he pulled away.

"Mello," she panted, her hand falling from his hair and onto the back of his neck as she pulled him close to her. Her other hand now lingered on the bulge that was straining against his boxers. She rubbed him firmly and Mello groaned.

He panted as she stroked him, placing his forearms beside her tiny body as he began thrusting into her hand. Layla slowly slipped her hand inside of the gap of his boxers and he knew it would be too much, "No Kiska, no." he stammered.

He reached into their nightstand and pulled out one of the loose condoms that littered the bottom of the drawer. Ripping it open with shaking fingers he slipped it on and bit his lip as she spread her legs wantonly.

He slid into her easily and he couldn't help but thrust his head back and cry.

"Oh, sweet Mary," he groaned, to engrossed in his pleasure to care about his vulgarity.

Layla was softly kissing the scarred side of his neck and shoulders, everything was heightened. The skin was overwhelmingly sensitive there and she knew it.

She began kissing him softly, pulling gently on his bottom lip and freeing it before starting the cycle all over again.

He began grinding their hips together in slow, circular motions, knowing that Layla has always loved it when he does that. She hissed suddenly and pushed their lips together, crying into his mouth, her coffee and chocolate taste making Mello dart his tongue back and forth between her lips.

"Ar-Are you c-close?" he mumbled, feeling himself tighten and he knew he wouldn't be able to last too much longer for her.

"God yes!" she squeaked, her voice raising several octaves.

He began thrusting to the hilt and right as his release spilled from him she pushed him deep inside of her, mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Mello spat, once he had regained the ability to speak, "That was great." he mumbled, collapsing on her collarbone and shuddering

Layla stroked his hair and shoulders, then cleared her throat. "I win."

"Win what?" Mello grumbled, "The best shag of the year award? Me too. Yay me."

"You haven't strangled me yet." she teased poking her tongue out playfully at him. "I win."

"I still shot your painting." he retorted.

"God, you're a jerk." she muttered.

"He is isn't he?" Mello smirked, kissing her nose and earning himself a smack on the head.


End file.
